Fault
by binbokusai OL
Summary: Murao is getting married. Makita does her hair. Futaba reads a magazine. One-shot.


"Do you think this is okay, Futaba-chan?"

"I think it's okay," Murao Shuuko spoke up, gazing at herself in the mirror. "I think you did it just like we tried out during the test round, Yuuri-chan. Natural, not too overdone. You know I hate thick and heavy makeup."

"Well, yeah, I know, but this is your wedding after all, you can't be just looking your usual self - not that you don't look gorgeous usually," Makita Yuuri fussed as she scrutinised her work.

Futaba, who had perched herself on Murao's desk, glanced up from where she had been LINE-ing with Kou. "She looks awesome, Yuuri-chan. I'm booking you for my wedding too!''

"Hee, when's that?''

"I dunno, but whenever it is. He hasn't proposed yet. Maybe he will never propose." Futaba glared down at her cellphone, and set it down next to her. "Omigod, I can't believe you're getting married, Shuu-chan. And that you're the first out of all of us.''

"What's that supposed to mean?'' Murao mock-glared at Futaba. "Hai, hai. I wouldn't have expected it of myself either. It was kind of sudden, but what the hell. I don't think I'm going to marry anybody else so what's the difference between now and five or ten years later? Besides, we were going to live together in Paris anyway, we might as well make it official.''

"It's so cool to be you, Shuu-chan,'' Makita sighed dramatically. "Being whisked off to an exotic country, marrying into a rich family...''

"Sou, sou,'' Futaba agreed. "At the rate I'm going I'm never getting married. My eggs are shrivelling.''

Murao burst out laughing, causing Makita to draw back in horror. "Shuu-chan! Futaba-chan,'' she gave Futaba a warning look.

"Gomen, gomen,'' Futaba apologized, still laughing. "She still looks fine, Yuuri-chan, don't be mad.''

"You're lucky I was just powdering her face,'' Makita grumbled. "Well, I'm done anyhow. Could you help me get that black bag over there, by the bed stand? It's time to do her hair.''

"Hai, hai,'' Futaba hopped off her perch and went over to said bag. As she picked it up, her eyes fell onto a magazine lying innocently on the bed stand.

Her heart skipped a beat.

_It's been a long time since I saw him._

"Futaba-chan, what are you staring into space for? Come on, the limousine's coming in two hours.''

"Hai!'' Futaba snapped back to attention and took the black bag. Then took the magazine as well. "Shuu-chan, is this yours? Can I read it for a bit?"

"Hmm?'' Murao looked as Futaba passed the black bag to Makita. "Oh that? Risa-chan must have left it there yesterday when she came to hang out. Go ahead, she won't mind.''

"Are?'' Makita too, took a closer look at the magazine. "Oh, wow! Isn't that Kikuchi-kun from high school?"

"Un...'' Futaba said absent-mindedly as she returned to her comfortable perch on Murao's desk.

"He's pretty famous now isn't he?'' Murao commented, as Makita began to comb her hair. "I saw him on TV the other day. He's doing a Japan tour now, it seems.''

"Sou, sou. He sent us a backstage invitation when they were playing around here,'' Makita said.

"Ooh, Uchimura's still in touch with the band, right?'' Murao asked. "That's nice.''

"Un! Sometimes he says it would have been nice to stay on, but...''

As Murao and Makita continued discussing the band's ascent to fame in recent years, Futaba flipped to the page of the magazine feature and started reading.

The feature started with a full page photo spread followed by a few pages of an interview transcript. Futaba skimmed through the introductory paragraph and started to read - the words of a person buried in her past.

xxxxxx

"Futaba-chan?''

"She's so engrossed reading it,'' Murao commented.

"Mmm?'' Futaba snapped her head back up from the magazine. "Gomen...did you need me for something?''

"No, sorry to interrupt your reading,'' Makita said, her brows furrowed in concentration. "You had such an intense look on your face. We wondered if you were okay.''

"Ahaha, don't mind me,'' Futaba waved airily, closing the magazine. "It's just that, after all this time, you know? He's so famous now. So many girls must be in love with him.''

_But he says he's still getting over a previous relationship._

_It's my fault._

"Yeah, including Risa-chan,'' Murao commented. "Luckily she's given up trying to like, meet him through Aya or something. We're not in high school anymore. The guy's a rising star and we're just normal people. Anyway, it'd be rude, we weren't even friends or anything.''

"Oh, Uchimura-kun could-''

"Forget it, I don't want to encourage her.''

Futaba half-listened to her friends' banter, but her mind remained on the interview transcript.

Looking at his photo spread in the magazine made it seem like they were in completely different worlds. He, from the world of the rich and famous. She, from the world of normal people.

But reading his words, Futaba could almost hear him.

How he had juggled a degree with his music, because he wanted to reassure his parents.

How he had worked to keep the band together, despite members coming and going.

His sources of inspiration for his music.

_Her__._

Futaba had not thought about him for a very long time, except fleetingly and randomly, like when he appeared on TV. She had always assumed that he, too, rarely thought about her, especially considering the immense length of time that had passed since.

"She's out of it again, isn't she.''

"Futaba-chan, are you okay?'' Makita looked at her, concerned, her hands currently pulling Murao's long, black hair into a complicated bun.

"Out with it, Futaba-chan,'' Murao ordered. "I want you in a good mood. It's my wedding, everything I say goes.''

"I'm fiiiine,'' Futaba insisted. "Really I am. It's just that...at the risk of sounding like narcissicist, it kind of feels like he's talking about me.'' The last few words came out as a mumbled rush.

"Oh yeah, probably,'' Murao would have nodded if it weren't for Makita pulling her hair tight and jabbing pins at breakneck speed. "Risa was asking me, who's this high school love that was his inspiration or something. Told her I didn't have a clue.''

"Shuu-chan,'' Makita admonished. "Still, Futaba-chan. Don't feel bad. Things happen and people cope with it in different ways. This is how he copes - with music.''

"Yeah, and he makes a shitload of money out of it. I'd have asked him for royalties if I were you.''

"You guys!'' Futaba burst out laughing. "What would I do without you.''

"No mushy talk!'' Makita cut in. "I've been standing for hours. Futaba-chan, if she starts crying, you're doing her makeup the second time round.''

Futaba stuck out her tongue. Just then, her phone rang.

"Oo, it's the best man,'' she commented, swiping the screen. "Hai. Yeah we're ready. Is the limo on its way? Okay, see you later.'' She snapped the phone shut. "Kou says we can start getting ready to move.''

"Okay, would you give me a hand cleaning up?'' Makita asked. "Shuu-chan, Futaba-chan will hang on to your phone.''

"Aa.''

As Futaba got down from her desk, she took one last look at the magazine on Murao's desk.

_It's still my fault._

No matter how few and far in between the moments where she would think of him had become, the conclusion she arrived to was inevitably the same.

Fin

A/N: SORRY I WAS LISTENING TO C'EST MA FAUTE BY KYO AND THIS WAS THE RESULT.


End file.
